


The Less Fortunate

by hypernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Great Depression, Hermit Cas, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Older Castiel, Runaway Dean, Younger Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypernatural/pseuds/hypernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1932: 18 year old Dean Winchester rides a boxcar train all the way to California, searching desperately for a job. He stumbles upon the shack of Castiel Novak, an equally destitute 24 year old writer living alone in a remote field, seemingly miles away from the nearest Hooverville. For some reason, Dean Winchester stays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Less Prepared

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I know I shouldn't be starting a brand new fic when I'm still right in the middle of Bring It On Home, but this has been calling to me for a while. I just learned about the Great Depression/Hoovervilles in history and thought that it would be a really interesting situation for unexpected love. HOWEVER, just to be clear as some historical fics aren't always, that I am not trying in anyway to trivialize what happened during the Depression and how many people suffered and died because of these hard times. I will try my best to acknowledge these hardships tastefully, but I am only a high school student so cut me some slack. I will try to respect this topic as much as possible as well as show the beauty of love in the most impossible of cases. If there are any historical inconsistencies/ offensive parts of my story that you think need to be changed urgently, don't hesitate to drop a comment and I will surely consider it. Over all I hope you enjoy this story and thanks for clicking!

His mother told him that riding the rails was dangerous, but Dad was a depressed, unemployed alcoholic, and he watched Sammy get skinnier and hungrier each day until he couldn’t just sit around anymore. His mother told him that he didn’t have to go, that she would get more food from the local charities, but what she didn’t understand was that he did have to go. He couldn’t stand being one more mouth to feed and one more slice of bread that Sam didn't get to eat. Dean was 18 years old, it was his time to go off and stop being a burden for his family. He had no idea where he was going, but he cried as he hugged Mom and Sam goodbye, and somehow ended up on the longest boxcar journey of his life. By the time the train slowed enough that he could jump off, Dean was filthy,woozy from hunger, and the sun was just rising, but at least he was away from Lawrence. Then solemnly, he looked around and realized that he was in the middle of absolute nowhere. He figured from the length of the ride, he had to have made it to at least Nevada, if not all the way to California, but there was no sign of a town or restaurant anywhere. Dean drank carefully out of his canteen before running his dirty hands through his equally dirty hair and began to walk. 

The midday sun was blazing when Dean saw the shack. It looked like an oasis in the middle of a desert. In reality, though, it was really just scrap metals and wood nailed haphazardly together into the shape of a tiny house, most likely only housing two people. But the world was spinning violently around Dean and that was the first sign of life he had seen all day. Suddenly, his legs ran. They ran and carried him all the way to the rickety door of the shack, where his arm took over and knocked. Then he promptly passed out on the ground. 

As he came to, he noticed he was inside the shack, on a hard bed in the center of the room. He had a wet rag draped across his forehead and it felt like someone was hammering on the inside of his skull. Looking across the room, he saw a man sitting hunched over a tiny desk that was crammed in the corner near a wash basin. The fellow looked young, not much older than Dean, and just as filthy. He wore messy dark brown like a halo around his head, and lean muscle strained inside his grimy white t-shirt. The man appeared to be writing something, but looked up quickly when he heard Dean shifting around. He was a handsome guy, a stubbly chin and the most pensive blue eyes Dean had seen in his lifetime. He seemed to squint analytically around, as if everything he was seeing was brand new. 

“Sorry,” was all Dean could find the words to say in this uncomfortable situation, “for y’know fainting at your front door.”

“It’s quite all right. You look like you’ve had a rough go. My name is Castiel Novak, by the way.”

“Dean Winchester,” He tried to stand up to shake hands with the new fellow, but black spots immediately clouded his vision. 

“You should stay sitting, I’ll get you some food.” Dean would have protested if he wasn’t so damn hungry. “So, where are you from… Dean?” 

“Lawrence, Kansas. My dad was a farmer until those dust storms started to kick up, we lost the farm and pretty much everything else.”

“So you turned to riding the rails, I presume?” Castiel handed Dean a slice of bread and a cup of water before sitting down on the foot of the bed.

“This was my first time, actually. I wasn’t really sure where I was going, and I’m… I’m still not really sure where I am.”

“You, my friend, are in the no man’s land outside of Los Angeles, California. The nearest town is a thirty minute drive. You must have walked for at least an hour from that railroad. I’m not surprised you passed out. You look malnourished.”

“I have a brother. We don’t have much food in the house, you know the story.” Dean offered this up as some sort of an explanation, but Castiel still just squinted at him, “So what about you? I assume you haven’t always lived in a shack out here in bum-fuck, California either?”

“No, I used to live in Oklahoma. I was a writer for a newspaper. I had a wife and a baby. My daughter Claire died before her second year, polio got her. That’s when I left my wife. My father owns some sort of electric company in London. So, I wrote him and now he send me money every month. Enough to buy food and water to get by out here.”

Dean was rather taken aback by the man’s brutal honesty, but tried not to let it show on his face. He finished his food and got out of the bed slowly. He felt the hot blood rushing to his head, and he was swaying a bit but he took a tentative step forward, attempting to gain his footing. Out of nowhere, his head was on someone else’s chest and their arms were wrapped around his waist, keeping him upright. It took Dean a feverish moment to realize that it was Castiel. The man held him tightly, his strong arms flexed under Dean’s lean. 

“Easy there, buddy. Don’t move too fast, you’re still not looking so great.” Castiel’s voice was an intimate murmur near his ear. For some reason, Dean’s heart leapt and, all of a sudden, he couldn’t feel his hands. Of course, he attributed this to being sick and Castiel cutting off the circulation in his arms. But a nasty voice somewhere in the back of his head reminded Dean that all he wanted was for Castiel to keep whispering to him and holding him close in a mixture of their musty scents. Dean was breathless by the time the blue eyed man settled him back down on the bed and sat down next to him with a steadying hand on his lower back. Then suddenly, Dean was leaning on his shoulder and Castiel’s arm was wrapped protectively around him. It was a comfortable position, as if the two had known each other for many years. Finally, Dean opened his eyes and attempted to catch his breath.

“So.. you said a wife and baby? You must be older than my 18 then?” He huffed out polite conversation, though still leaning heavily against the man’s side.

“Ah, yes. I’ll be 25 in September.” As he spoke lowly, Castiel absentmindedly ran his fingers in random patterns on Dean’s shoulder in a way that made the younger man feel tingly all over, “you should get some rest, it’s getting late and God knows you need it.”  
Despite the knowledge that there was no room anywhere in the room for another person to sleep on the floor, Dean allowed himself to be laid out on the cot by a complete stranger, closing his eyes and letting the exhaustion of the whole day take him far, far away from this country, this depression, and this world.


	2. The Less Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I am so sorry for abandoning my works, these months have been so crazy. But I am going to try to upload regularly, at least 1 time a week starting now. I'm still trying to sort out my other fic, Bring It On Home, because I'm not sure where it's going but I do know with this one so I'll just keep going. Thanks for reading!

Dean was confused when he woke up. It was one of those moments when you look around and have no idea where you are. His back ached from the thin mattress that he laid on and for a minute he thought he was in his old family home in Kansas, until he saw that he wasn’t. Next, he noticed someone sleeping very close to him. There was a pair of feet pressing against Dean’s shoulder and a much bigger form slumbering at the other end of the bed. He rubbed his eyes a few times as he recalled the afternoon before and meeting this Castiel man, who Dean presumed was sleeping in the bed. He was suddenly overtaken with guilt that the guy was squished at the end of his own bed all because of Dean. The younger man was feeling much better so he quickly rolled out of the bed and moved towards the cramped makeshift kitchen in the other corner of the room. He spent the next few minutes scrounging up two cups of warm coffee and singing quietly to himself. As he finished, Dean turned around abruptly and noticed that Castiel was awake and sitting up at the end of the bed, a strange, soft smile on his face. 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve heard music. You have a nice voice. I nearly forgot about how much I missed the radio.” Castiel’s voice was deeper and rougher than Dean had remembered it. 

“Yeah, uh, my mom loves Fred Astaire and is always singing songs from his shows around the house so I guess it rubbed off on me a little.” Dean handed the coffee to the other man quickly then leaned back on his heels, “Look, I’m sorry about taking up your bed, you really didn’t have to--”

“Don’t worry about it, Dean. Stay as long as you’d like. To be honest, I’ve missed having company around the house. It’s nice to not be alone, you know?”

Dean didn’t really know, as he had rarely been alone in his life, but he nodded anyway. An awkward silence fell over the room. Dean was feeling so many emotions and was so confused that he wanted to cry but instead he just sipped his coffee and bit back tears. Castiel motioned for Dean to sit down on the bed next to him. It was quiet for quite a while but Dean felt super charged every time the older man’s shoulder brushed his own. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. It was if every single emotion had just been poured on him all at once and he couldn’t take it. He missed his mother and Sam. He missed his crazy screwed up house. He missed the farm and all the fucking dirt. He missed his bed and the familiar smell of his mother’s clothes. He even missed his dad a little. But he couldn’t go back to any of that. Dean was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a stranger who was sitting very close to him and made his head spin every time they touched. The longer Dean contemplated all of this, the more tears fell from his eyes and dripped onto the hands holding the coffee cup. He tried to angle his head so that Castiel could not see that he was crying, but eventually his nose began to run too heavily and Dean was forced to sniffle loudly. He turned further the opposite way as Castiel’s head turned and his concerned blue eyes studied him.

“Dean,” His voice was soft, “are you crying?”

The younger man shook his head petulantly, stifling more sounds that would give him away.

“Come on, I know you don’t know me very well, but you can talk to me. I promise.” Castiel was calm, still staring intently at the side of Dean’s head. 

Suddenly, the blue eyed man reached out and touched Dean’s shoulder, sending a shock down his arm and causing the cup in his hands to crash to the floor, shattering and sending coffee splattering everywhere. Dean simply buried his hands in his hands and began sobbing. Castiel ignored the mess beneath them and pulled Dean tightly to his chest. 

“Please, at least try to tell me what is wrong with you. I want to help.” The older man’s desperate words were strained. 

“I miss my mom. I’m 18 years old and I miss my fucking mom.” Dean leaned out of the grasp and angrily rubbed his eyes, trying to force himself to stop crying.

“That’s not unusual. It’s okay to miss your family. It really is, Dean.” Castiel was patient and calm, directly contrasting Dean’s franticness. 

“And then there’s you,” It was hard to miss the flinch from Castiel as those words were said, “You- you’re so nice to me. Every time you touch me I get all breathless, like I just ran a mile. I know I shouldn’t be telling you this but you’re confusing me. I like girls and I know that but you. You’re changing all of that and goddamn it, I’m so scared. I just-”

Before Dean could say another word, Castiel had pressed their lips together. It was gentle and open mouthed. The older man’s lips were chapped and both of their mouths tasted like coffee and it was new and awkward and so perfect. Castiel’s hands were holding Dean close by the back of his neck while Dean had his hands entangled in the other’s shirt. When it was over they just looked at each other for a minute.  
“I, for one, would like more of that.” Castiel commented brazenly before shoving a nodding Dean back onto the cot and kissing him more fiercely.


	3. The Less Furious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one! I'm really getting back into the swing of writing this story and I'm enjoying it again, and I hope you do, too!

There was no telling how long the two were making out on the bed. After all, neither of them had much to do. When they finally tired of kissing one another, their lips and faces were bright red, and their hair and clothes disheveled. Castiel got up, made his way to the kitchen and brought back some bread and water for them to snack on. Dean was leaned back against the rickety headboard, a tiny smile cast over his young features. 

“This is so wrong, you know.” He stated in a blissful, matter of fact way. 

Castiel simply studied him for a moment then shrugged, “Did that feel wrong to you?”

“Oh God no,” Dean’s reply came quickly and earnestly, “but you know what I mean, Cas. Two guys shacked up together, kissing and stuff. I ain’t no queer. I’m supposed to be out there getting a job.” The last part of the sentence sounded tight chested but Castiel just continued to stare. 

“No one said either of us was a queer,” Castiel flinched as he spat the dirty word from his mouth, agitated that Dean was over thinking their situation so much, “if it is such a problem for you, then you can go and get your fucking job and leave me be.”

“Look, Cas -- buddy, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Then how did you mean it, Dean? Because it sounded to me like you’ve never fucked a guy before, and you just got a little curious and thought the stranger you met off the railway would be a nice little experiment. But now after you led me on, you decide that you’re not no queer and it’s time to move along. Did I miss anything, buddy?” 

“How dare you. Did you happen to forget that you were the one that kissed me first?” Dean seethed through gritted teeth, unable to believe the words that he was hearing.

“Oh yeah, it was all my fault. It wasn’t like you had just cried in my arms about how confused you were and how I made you feel. But you’re right, Dean. It’s all my fault. Just leave me be.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Dean’s voice was low and weak out of his mouth.

“And why is that?” Castiel was picking apart his slice of bread and crumbs were falling all over the blanket and floor.

“Because I need you.” Dead silence. 

“I can’t- I can’t do this with you, Dean. Any of it, I can’t do it. In one day, you’ve come in here and messed up everything I created for myself in 5 years. I don’t even know you. You don’t need me, Dean. You want me or whatever you think I am,” Castiel began to pace around the room frantically, unsure what to do with himself. “I just can’t do this.”

And with those words Castiel stormed out of the makeshift front door of the shack and into the slowly cooling California air and setting sun. Dean was left in the exact same position, wide eyed and unmoving. He was scared, all he could feel was fear bubbling in his stomach and through his veins. He was scared of everything: of the quickly falling night, of being alone, of Castiel never coming back. He was paralyzed in fear for what felt like hours. The sun set into darkness and Dean was left alone in the darkness. He began to slowly move from the bed, slowly and painfully the shock of the fight still abundantly present. He forced a few sips of water down his parched throat and eventually ended up standing in the middle of the room, having nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. Dean found himself staring intensely yet blankly at the blue tie that Castiel had left draped haphazardly around the back of the desk chair, and he was filled with questions and regrets. Just as it started to become too much and Dean felt new tears pressing behind his eyes, the door creaked open slowly. He whipped his head around, unsure of what he would do if it were somebody besides Castiel. But it was. The older man came in as if balancing on egg shells with a few envelopes in one hand and car keys in the other. He kept his eyes trained on the ground and the only sound for the next minute was the softly whistling wind outside. 

“Cas, you’re right. Maybe this just isn’t right for either of us-- me being here. I understand if you want me to leave.” Dean’s voice was shaky and cracking and neither of them believed his words.

“It was just so fast,” Castiel sounded wrecked as if he had just given an hour long speech or screamed for a long time, “I got scared. We’re still strangers to each other but there is something here that is undeniable and special. Of course I don’t want you to leave, Dean. I need you, too.” 

Dean found himself pressed against Castiel’s body without any conscious effort, then their lips were pressed tentatively together in a kiss much more gentle than any of the previous ones. Eventually, the two gave up on kissing all together and just stood near the pitch black door, holding each other close, listening to only the wind outside and the sound of each other’s heart beat.


	4. The Less Precarious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My author's guilt is so bad right now because I left both of my stories high and dry, but I was really struggling with writing an intimate scene, seeing as I am still not all that comfortable writing full on smut. So I put my own kind of spin on their intimacy, and it hopefully captured the same kind of connection! Again, my fullest apologies

They ended up falling asleep directly after, Dean wrapped tightly in Castiel’s strong arms. As the younger arose early the next morning, he sat and considered how strange the situation really was. There he was: a poor eighteen year old kid from Kansas awaking in the arms of an older, stronger, and much more educated author in a beat down shack in the middle of the desert. It was all just so bizarre. Dean simply laid there for a while, soaking in Castiel’s body heat and musty scent, weirdly pleased and content with the way his life was shaping up to be. 

Over the following few weeks, Castiel and Dean operated around the hut like a married couple. Dean cooked a meager breakfast every morning, complete with a mildly bitter coffee, and Castiel did his writing for half of the day while his boyfriend tried his hand at improving their living conditions. The younger would drive into town every few days, picking up Cas’s mail deliveries, along with basic home furnishing supplies such as curtains, a blanket, and a second army-style cot that they pushed together to form a full sized bed big enough to fit both of them. He also picked out various paint colors and spent much time painting sections of the shack bright and vibrant colors, then changing his mind and painting over it again. It was in this way that Dean discovered his love for art and painting. Of course he had drawn a few things growing up and had even taken an art class in high school before he dropped out, but it wasn’t until he sat up on the roof, stroking even widths of purple, orange, pink, blue, and yellow paint over the dingy wood that Dean fell in love with the colors. Consequently, he started saving up little bits of money here and there until he could afford art supplies from the struggling nickel and dime shop in town. From there, Cas and Dean worked on their respective art forms all day, Castiel writing elaborate and winding tales about two princes in a mystical land, and Dean using his boyfriend as a muse. 

They settled into a comfortable routine of eating, working, and sleeping and it seemed like nothing was going to change. One night in late October, Dean had finally finished a painting that he was proud of. It was nothing special, really, just a slanted and brightly colored house surrounded by a sweeping and swirling background that made it feel like it was floating in a different world, anywhere but the dull and dirty desert. 

“Cas, what do you think? I’m finished,” Dean held his breath a little, nervous of what his boyfriend would think of his amateur work. 

“It’s beautiful, really honey, it’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” Cas said this into Dean’s ear, like a whisper, even though they were all alone. 

Dean spun abruptly and stood to meet his lips to Castiel’s. But this kiss was different than the many that they had shared before. Those were relaxed and familiar, but this had much more passion behind it. They made out for a few minutes, and even shed their tops at some point. But right in the middle, Dean paused.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Castiel inquired, obviously worried. 

“I want you to fuck me.” The younger stated rather matter of factly. 

“W-what?” Cas stuttered, taken aback. 

“I want you to make sweet, sweet love to me, Cas Novak.” Dean’s voice dripped in sarcasm as he became more and more impatient. 

“Dean, this is serious. Are you sure this is what you want? You’re young and I want you to be absolutely positive before we do anything. I want you to be ready.”

“Dude, I’ve been thinking about this since, like, the day we met. I’m ready and I’m sure. Let’s just do it.” 

“But we don’t have any-”

“Don’t forget that I do the shopping, buddy.” Dean cut in reaching under the bed and searching around for a minute before producing a small bottle of lubricant. 

“Jesus, Dean. Have you done this before?”

“Of course I haven’t, but neither have you.” He said this as a fact and not a question.

“How do you know that? I was married with a child, you know.” The older man furrowed his brows, but made no move to leave.

“Yes, to a woman. You’ve never done it with a guy,” Dean grew tired of the chit chat and started feverishly unbuttoning his boyfriend’s pants.

Castiel finally gave in and pulled off his own pants before shedding Dean of his until they were both sitting in the bed naked, just looking at one another. They were both nervous and neither wanted to make a move and ruin their momentum. So the green eyed boy did the only thing he knew how to do in an awkward situation: he talked.  
“So, uhm, back in Kansas a few years ago my friend took me to this place. It was where all of the couples went to- you know- and he drove me up there and I didn’t know why, but we just sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes and then he sighed really deeply and drove me back home and we never really talked about it, but I think my friend thought I was gay before I even did, so there’s a funny story for you.” 

Cas squinted at him for a minute after that, before breaking into real, uninhibited laughter and kissing him again. This time, regaining his composure, Cas moved the kiss from Dean’s lips to his neck and chest, gently laying him back. He glanced up and noticed that his boyfriend’s eyes were closed and his face was already flushing from arousal.

Dean was going crazy and Castiel was really taking his time. He explored and discovered anything and everything about Dean’s body that he didn’t already know. He kissed and licked and nibbled everywhere, taking constant mental notes about what made the boy squirm and whine without abandon. By the time they actually got to the fucking part, Dean was worn out. He was sweating and read everywhere, yet still unbelievable turned on, which made what came next just that much better. When Cas was inside of him, that’s when Dean really blissed out. He moaned, groaned, and yelled like his life depended on him, while Cas only made small grunting sounds and occasionally muttered a muffled curse.   
Dean came right before Cas did, climaxing with a desperate cry and hanging onto his boyfriend’s shoulders, digging nails into his skin as the elder followed, closing his eyes. All the green eyed boy could do after was lie there, while Cas silently wet a washrag and cleaned the two of them up. It was dark and silent by the time Castiel curled himself around his boyfriend’s pliant and exhausted body and they drifted together into their dreams.


End file.
